“Look, I appreciate the concern. But I swear I’ve totally got this.” I shrug and reach for my glass of wine. It’s been sitting on my coffee table all by itself, poor thing. It needs me to be its friend.
“How are you this calm, Ayla?” Kelly comes over and grabs her glass off the table, taking a small sip. “You just challenged for alpha and you’re sitting here drinking wine. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, training?” She glances over at Olivia for a second before looking back at me. “I thought you were a witch. Your aura suggests you have magic.”
“Ladies, honestly, I’ve got this. All that matters is I’ve got this.” Although, with the two of them bringing up what I might be, I’m second-guessing my decision to challenge for alpha. Do I just hand over power to someone when I win? And there’s no question in my mind I will win. “Drink your wine. We’ve got a fun day tomorrow.” Though now I’m cursing my rashness.
“Fun,” Olivia mutters, shaking her head. “Are you listening to this insanity? Fun, she calls it.” Olivia stalks over and grabs her wine, downing it in a single gulp. Impressive.
“Morgan needs to be dealt with. I’m going to bloody deal with him.” What happens after that is a question I don’t want to think about right now.
What the actual fuck? Why do I always put myself in these situations? Am I really this stupid? Maybe I just really hate myself.
I’m staring down an insanely pissed off lion shifter. There’s saliva everywhere, his eyes are bloodshot, and he’s growling in that way cats do when they’re not happy, all deep and guttural. I’m going to have to kill him, I know that. I knew it the moment I challenged him for alpha, but why the hell did I have to go and catch feelings for people? What the hell is wrong with me?
I toss a quick glance to my right and see the faces of the witches and shifters of the New England area. They’re gathered around the center of the town the shifters use as their pack land. A small girl with gorgeous, brown, curly pigtails tugs on her mother’s hand, smiling up at her. Right. That’s what’s wrong with me. I can’t let any more shifters go missing, and I can’t let the witches take the blame either, not when I know they aren’t behind the disappearances.
Another growl from the lion shifter in front of me pulls my attention away from the girl and back to him. He looks strange again, and I still can’t figure out why. It’s almost like his entire body is vibrating with energy. Now that I have a minute to focus, he looks like the shifters from the fighting ring. His aura appears smudged, like someone who put pressure on ink that’s not quite dry yet. Both of these make him appear, to me anyway, fuzzy, as though I need glasses to see him properly. I’ve never experienced this before I started this investigation, which concerns me just as much as the missing shifters. Thinking about the missing shifters fills me with rage. How could this, this thing, call himself alpha? How could he let any of his pack go missing? What sort of leader did that? While I had been able to save one shifter, a wolf named Sasha, the rest remain lost. And try as I might, I haven’t been able to track them down.
I let the rage build, sending streams of hot lava through my veins. I know I can’t let the shifters or witches see what I am, but there is no way I’m going to lose this fight. I can’t shift, and I’ll need to be creative to use my magic. I smirk as the heat of my rage warms my muscles. I could just rip him to shreds with my bare hands. That will be fun.
The lion charges me, his giant front paw swinging at my head. I wait until the last possible moment before stepping out of the way, aiming a roundhouse kick at his face. My foot connects with his eye socket with a satisfying crunch. Even in my human form, I’m much stronger than most shifters in their animal forms. This douche canoe has no idea what’s coming for him. I may not be the protector I once was, but I’ve seen enough of this man’s shit to know I need to protect these people. I quickly follow through with a superman punch to the same spot while he’s dazed from my kick, and the resulting sound of bone grinding together is music to my ears.
I want to make this asshat pay. I want him to feel the fear those females must be feeling if they’re even still alive. I want him to hurt because there’s no way anyone can convince me they aren’t hurting. I want him, in his last moments, to realize he’s so weak and pathetic I can take him in my human form. I don’t see him as a threat, me, a petite female. I have no fear of this creature, and I’m going to make damn sure no one fears him again.
I allow my magic to flood my body. I don’t want to publicly use it and raise too many questions, so I’ll let it give me an internal boost so I can ramp up the pain. I’m not typically a bloodthirsty person, but there’s just something about Morgan that makes me want to bathe in his blood, my dragon egging me on.
He staggers to his feet, blood streaming down his face and congealing in his mane. He lets out a roar, which I’m sure was supposed to sound impressive but comes out shattered and pained. He starts to circle around me, looking for a weak spot. He won’t find one unless I allow it. I close my eyes so I can follow his aura. He’s smudged like this too. I wonder if he’s working with demons. There’s a similar feel to their auras and energy now that I think about it. Every muscle goes rigid, and the heat of my rage soars higher.
No.
My eyes snap open and I whirl on him, my magic trying to burst from my body to burn this fucker alive. He’s selling females. Regardless of who is paying for them, he’s allowing members of his pack to be sold as though they’re just lumps of meat. And if demons are involved, there’s a potential that some of those females are in their hands. Either way, it’s a fate so much worse than death. I was going to toy with him, but now I can hardly hold myself back. And honestly, there’s no reason why I should restrain myself.
So I don’t. I let the rage consume me as I practically fly at Morgan. I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. His neck snaps like a toothpick.
Fuck you, asshole.
Chapter Two
Present.
I sit down at my desk with a sigh. It’s been a long-ass week since I killed Morgan, and I’m not nearly finished. I look at my computer as it flashes the date. Fuck, it’s only Tuesday.
How the hell is it only Tuesday?
Need I remind you that you’re now the alpha and high priestess of New England? My dragon, who is normally quiet while I’m at work, turns on the sass. Just what I need.
No. I haven’t forgotten. Have you forgotten that we’re an attorney, and we have twenty cases we need to work on right now?
There’s silence. Of course there’s silence. I work exclusively on supernatural cases. It’s been six long months since Kelly and Olivia pounded on my door in the middle of the damn night insisting on speaking with me about the missing shifter females. They both happen to be my betas now. Kelly is an extremely powerful witch and would be even more so if her powers weren’t partially bound. I make a mental note to ask her about that. Olivia, a panther shifter, could be an alpha in her own right but decided she wanted to work with me after I made Morgan into a chew toy. Morgan was a worthless trash fire of a person, no one seems to be missing him.